


T-Minus Ten Seconds

by starkintern



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor descriptions of injuries, Not A Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, but this wont encompass all of endgame, do you seriously think i wont discuss that here, found family trope, no ships, or At Least an Attempt at Humor, other than spaceships, we have two characters with daddy issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkintern/pseuds/starkintern
Summary: * ENDGAME SPOILERS. *Peter Parker survives The Snap. He finds himself on a voyage in space with Tony Stark and Nebula, and all three are desperate to survive the trip to Earth with little to no fuel, a lack of basic necessities, and overwhelming boredom. Who knew that a family could be a clever teenager who can stick to walls, a charming billionaire with a cocktail of issues, and a blue alien with a mechanical talent that can put any inventor to shame?Or, in other words, how different the trip in space that Tony and Nebula take would be if Peter survived.





	1. Day One Report: We're Totally Screwed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is 100% an impulse fic that i had sitting in my writing folder for a while. i decided to finish the first chapter just so i can feel less guilty about not writing anything these past few weeks. and yes, i did see endgame, and yes, it did break my heart in more ways than one, but i loved the movie so much.  
> i wish we had more interactions between tony and nebula, but that's what i'm here for! here is the space trip fic that no one asked for! ignore the other fics that i have yet to finish...please...have mercy...i'm just one man. 
> 
> any relationships between these characters is STRICTLY PLATONIC! no starker at all. i hate starker. tony and peter have a father-son relationship and tony and nebula will have a father-daughter relationship (or if not that, then a very close friendship). that's it, you heard it here from me.

Everything felt like it happened in a handful of seconds. 

First it was Mantis. Tony watched her fade to pieces, overwhelming confusion masking the pain of his stab wound, which was granted to him from none other than Thanos. Then it was Drax. By the time it came to Quill, Tony already had a vague idea of what was going on and asked him to stay, a desperate and fruitless attempt to save him. _Stay, stay, stay. Please stay._ However, Quill was reduced to a fate just like that of his friends and his face crumbled to dust, a hopeless and defeated look ghosting it, mirroring how Tony felt. The bright orange glow of Titan was disorienting. 

“Tony.” Stephen’s voice was oddly calm, and Tony dared to look at him, shaking his head, a frown forming on his face. _This can’t be happening. Don’t you dare go, too. Don’t you fucking dare._ “There was no other way.” He was gone before Tony could give him a proper reaction. Tony felt like his intestines are twisting together and a lump formed in his throat, panic quickly setting upon him like a dark storm cloud. 

Now he is barely standing on Titan, the orange landscape deserted as if no creature had ever walked on the surface, the skeletons of their spaceships left abandoned to dust. He is left with an insidious feeling of self-hatred for losing against Thanos and causing this to happen, and despair for everyone already lost. He didn’t lose everyone yet, though. He still has - 

“Mr. Stark?” 

Tony’s heart drops all the way to his stomach. _Please, no. Not him. Please, please, not him._ He almost reluctantly turns around, fully expecting to see Peter also withering away into ash, and he isn’t certain how he’ll be able to handle it. No. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

Peter’s brown eyes are blown wide and he’s holding his hands out in front of him, glancing at them every now and then as if expecting them to disappear, before he chokes out, “What’s happening?” 

“You’re alright,” Tony says automatically, as if trying to calm himself down and assure himself that Peter is still in one piece in front of him. For how long, though? For all he knew, death could have a cold hand on Peter’s shoulder as they speak, waiting to pull him in. 

The two of them meet each other’s eyes for a brief moment and Peter stumbles forward, and Tony is there to catch him. His muscles move involuntarily – a few moments ago, he could have sworn that he felt as if his feet were glued to the ground – and the two of them both fall to their knees, and it is only then that Tony realizes that Peter’s body is violently shaking. 

No words are spoken between them as they both silently wait. Tony drops his head on Peter’s shoulder and forces himself to take deep breathes, counting silently from ten to one. His hands rest on Peter’s back, and as he counts, he also takes note of how they quickly move up and down as Peter breathes. As long as he still has that movement, he knows that Peter is still here, still desperately clutching at the fabric of his jacket as if Tony is his anchor. 

Ten seconds feel like ten hours. Tony finishes counting and dares to take a peek at his own hand and is genuinely surprised to find it still in one piece, resting on the back of someone wearing a red-and-blue suit. The up-and-down movement continues, this time a bit slower. 

Tony’s grip on Peter tightens but this time with relief. He still has Peter. He didn’t lose him; the universe didn’t let him lose him. Tony feels like he could cry and he almost does, but Peter’s small voice is what stops him. 

“Did we lose?” 

They both pull away from each other, helping each other to their feet in order to check out the aftermath. From a quick glance, Tony can tell that they are the only ones left. They no longer have a formidable team that stands a chance against Thanos. It feels like salt has been poured on Tony’s wound and he has to fight against the rising nausea in his throat. He could have stopped this if only he had tried hard enough. “Yeah, kid. We lost.” Tony finally answers, the words heavy on his tongue. 

Peter’s brown eyes suddenly widen again and Tony freezes, his blood turning to ice as he stands waiting for him to crumble into dust. However, instead, Peter’s voice rises to a desperate wail and his hands clasp his own hair, “Oh my God, what about Aunt May? If something happened to her – if she disappeared like everyone else – I don’t know what I’d do – what if she-?” 

Tony cuts him off, already sensing that Peter is close to an anxiety attack. He’s had enough of them to know what triggers one. “Hey, hey, relax. I’m sure that your Aunt is fine. You’re fine, yeah? It didn’t happen to everyone. Only half of the universe is gone, so there’s a 50% chance that she’s alright.” 

“And a 50% chance that she’s gone.” 

_Well, he’s not wrong,_ Tony silently concedes as he chews his bottom lip, trying his best to think of a way to comfort Peter even though this is way out of his experience level. Hell, he still has yet to comfort himself. His blood pressure is most likely reaching new heights as they speak, and that is far from a good thing. However, he pushes himself out of his mind and makes his way back to Peter, putting what is supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder. Peter responds by wrapping his arms around Tony’s frame and hugging him tightly, causing Tony to let out a small noise of surprise – and slight pain since his injured abdomen was in no condition for physical exertion, hugs included. He toughed it out for Peter. 

“Even if you’re right, there’s a 100% chance that we’ll get her back.” 

“I’d prefer to have both of you alive,” he replies, voice muffled by Tony’s jacket, but Tony is happy to hear that it doesn’t sound as panicked anymore. 

“What’s that? Sorry, I don’t speak teenager mumbles.” 

Tony feels Peter’s shoulders bounce up and down with a small laugh – it’s weary and almost forced, but it’s a lot better than sobbing. Tony hopes that Peter doesn’t feel how tense and nervous he is, mere seconds away from an inevitable panic attack looming over him ever since the first of their motley crew was reduced to ash. He let this happen. He couldn’t stop Thanos from erasing half of the population, he feels like he hadn’t even come close. 

_Is Rhodey okay? And Pepper? And Happy? And Steve, and Nat, and Bruce – oh God._ His thoughts begin to race and he feels the familiar tightness around his throat, a tightness that forces his breath to hitch and his chest to quickly begin to ache. “Sorry, kid, need air,” he gasps, praying that Peter doesn’t take it personally as he stumbles away from the embrace and settles down a few feet away, his left hand placed on top of his Arc Reactor. _I can’t feel my heartbeat. Was this planet always so orange? These are some big fucking rocks, too. NASA would have a field day with them. What if NASA is gone, too? How am I going to get the kid back to Earth without proper help?_

Then, one single thought that causes Tony’s blood to turn to ice. 

_What if Peter dies here because I couldn’t get him home?_

He feels a hand on his shoulder and jolts as if he were electrocuted, his other hand coming up to cover the Arc Reactor protectively. As soon as he registers the touch as Peter’s, he shakes his head, gesturing for Peter to leave him be for a few minutes; the last thing he wants to do is freak the kid out. He hates himself for having a panic attack right at this moment and he is so painfully aware of the inconvenience, but everything is _too loud._

“I’m not leaving, Mr. Stark. I know what these are like. Count to ten?” Peter assures him and then suggests. 

“I doubt I can even count to five.” 

“I know, but maybe it can help?” 

Tony looks at Peter, his hopeful expression making his shoulders sag in defeat. He curls in on himself, almost like a last-minute defense, before he sighs, “Fine. One.” 

He waits for a minute, a wave of terror passing over him. He suppresses a shudder as he chokes out, “Two.” 

Peter thankfully seems to notice that Tony is struggling with the seemingly simple task and he chips in, “Three.” 

Even though Peter’s voice is steadier than his, Tony knows that this is also helping him, so he continues as best he can, “Four.” 

This back-and-forth counting continues between them. Tony does not feel completely better but he feels steadier – his breathing is more controlled and his thoughts, despite still racing, are not as morbid as they were before. When he feels stronger and less unpredictably emotional, Tony places a shaky hand on Peter’s shoulder, pulling him in until they’re impossibly close to each other again, Peter’s forehead resting on his own shoulder. He can feel Peter’s ragged breathing now and mentally curses himself for letting his own panic get the best of him while Peter is still struggling. 

“Nine.” Peter’s voice is a bit stronger now that they reach the end of line, not much but better than nothing. 

“Ten.” Tony finishes and presses a small kiss to the top of Peter’s head. Now that he feels more under control and a bit embarrassed to have freaked out so easily, he can focus on finding a way back to Earth. That should have been his first instinct after everyone disappeared but two people with severe anxiety issues stuck on a planet far away from Earth is a recipe for disaster. 

“We need to go.” Tony hears a metallic voice behind him echo his thoughts and turns around, meeting the dark eyes of the blue alien girl he’s seen before – Gamora’s sister, if he remembered correctly? He had no idea that she survived the event, too, but at this point he is more than happy to see another face, especially one that seems to be seasoned with space travel. 

He feels Peter get up once he notices her, too, and watches him stick his hand out, an attempt at a friendly smile on his face despite his earlier state, “Hey! I don’t think I introduced myself yet. My name is Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.” 

Nebula eyes his hand warily and gently clasps it, Peter performing the shaking motion for the most part. There are a few awkward seconds of this before Peter sheepishly retracts his hand, rubbing it against his chest as his cheeks dust a bright red. Tony snorts and stands up as well, studying Nebula now that he has the chance to take a closer look at her – he immediately takes note of the robotic parts attached to her body and wonders if she is truly comfortable with them, and he is suddenly painfully aware of his own Arc Reactor. 

“Nebula, right?” Tony says, and is grateful that he remembered her name despite everything that happened. “Agreed. Orange is not a good color for me anymore. What’s your game plan?” 

“The Guardians arrived on a ship and unlike your ship, it is still working and in one piece.” Nebula gestures towards the flying donut in the distance, which is now half of a donut. 

“Harsh. We couldn’t stick the landing, I blame it on the wizard,” he uselessly explains before looking at the ship that Nebula pointed out, which is indeed in one piece. It has the word _Benatar_ printed on the side of it. “Where will we go? Earth?” 

Nebula eyes him carefully. “That is your home, isn’t it?” 

_Or what’s left of it,_ Tony mentally responds but simply nods his head instead. Nebula gestures for them to follow her and it dawns on Tony that they have no choice but to trust her despite the fact that he knows barely anything about her. Without her help, they wouldn’t be able to get out of Titan, or at least not until Tony tries to fix the other ships. 

He notices that Peter has been unusually silent throughout the entire conversation, so he falls in step with him, his hand ghosting over Peter’s back. “You alright, buddy?” 

Peter looks up at him and musters a reassuring smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. I think I’m just a little tired. I guess fighting power-hungry titans in space really takes a lot out of a guy.” 

Tony knows that there is a little more to that reason, but he doesn’t push it, knowing that Peter might just need some time to sort through his thoughts. However, he couldn’t stop that nagging thought at the back of his mind, _this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t failed him and everyone else in the universe. If you were only_ better, _you could have won._

As they board the ship, the door closes behind them and they are enclosed in a darkness that is only illuminated by the light streaming through the huge window and the light blue lights inside of the ship, as well as the bright blue from Tony’s Arc Reactor. He tries to ignore how uneasy the darkness inside of the ship makes him feel and focuses on the change in scenery, and he is thankful that it isn’t so bright inside. He is not prepared for a debilitating migraine on the top of his list of problems. 

“I’m going to check the fuel.” Nebula announces to them and, before giving Tony a chance to respond, makes her way towards the other end of the ship. Tony wonders if he should follow her or not, since mechanics are his forte, but then decides against it for the time being. If there is an issue, he is sure she would tell him. 

For now, he has other things to focus on: Peter’s health and the stab wound on his abdomen.

* * *

The ship is already well out of the orange glow of Titan by the time Tony comes across Peter’s sleeping form, his cheek resting against the wall, his legs curled in towards his body on the floor. Nebula had helped him nurse the gash on his side in the meantime and now they just had to hope that it wouldn’t get infected, since it was still a very open wound. For now, though, the bleeding had stopped, and Tony considered that one of the only good things to come out of this field trip to space. 

As he stares down at the sleeping teenager, Tony wishes that Peter could have found somewhere more comfortable to sleep, such as the various seats – it seemed like the kid was always sleeping in weird places, whether it be the ceiling or the laundry basket. Scoffing softly, he pulls his jacket off, leaving himself in a dark tank top, and carefully drapes it around Peter’s shoulders, freezing whenever Peter makes slight movement so he wouldn’t wake him up. Then, he gently brushes a few strands of hair away from his eyes even though they’re closed, a small smile slowly forming on his face. “I’m going to get you back home, kid. I promise.” 

“Tony.” Nebula’s voice once again interrupts his thoughts and he looks up to find her leaning against the wall, not looking particularly pleased. “I need your help.” 

“What happened to Miss Independent?” 

“What?” 

Tony smirks as he stands up and follows her towards the back of the ship. “It’s a song reference. What, you never listened to Kelly Clarkson? Now that we’re on a road trip together in the deep dark depths of space, I might as well introduce you to some hit songs. We can have a few karaoke sessions. The kid is pretty good at them, though, just a fair warning.” 

“You’re starting to sound like Gamora’s love interest.” 

“The plucky guy? That’s the worst insult you could have given me. It cut me deep. Now I’m going to go cry myself to sleep every night, look what you did.” As he spoke, making sure to increase the dramatics, he could have sworn he witnessed a flicker of amusement on Nebula’s face but it was gone as soon as it appeared. 

It is that moment that Tony remembers that she has lost someone, too – her sister. He has no idea if she cared for the rest of the Guardians and if she did, then she makes sure not to show it. When she mentioned Gamora, however, Tony felt something in her mood shift, an almost palpable feeling of loss filling the ship. 

Tony doesn’t ask her about it. Nebula shows him the worn down wires, the engine of the ship that is slowly being beaten down, the incredibly small amount of resources such as food and water, and the more he looks at the sorry state of the interior of the ship, the more painfully aware he is of how the odds are stacked against the three of them. 

However, as much as he can relate to the worn-down wiring of the wires and the barely pumping heart of the ship, he refuses to go down now – not without another fight. “We can fix or at the very least give band-aid solutions to most of these. We just need to make sure that they do their jobs.” 

“At least we’ll have a chance,” she agrees and kneels down, taking out a box of nearby tools that they can use. Tony feels his breath hitch in his throat, the darkness and the tools bringing back memories that he had a talent for constantly pushing away, shoving to the deep crevices of his mind where they only appeared in nightmares, nightmares of water being forced into his lungs, darkness engulfing him, the only light being from the metal embedded in his chest – 

He cuts his own thoughts off. He can’t afford another attack, not when he has work to do and a teenager to bring home safely. As Nebula stands back up with the tools, they immediately begin working, Tony’s mind going miles an hour not with panic but with ideas. He doesn’t see a permanent solution to any of the problems Nebula presented him with, which worries him, but he _always_ built his way out of his problems and this situation is no different. 

“How long would you give this ship?” Tony inquires as he brushes off some spare unnecessary parts from his workspace, part of him not wanting to know the answer. “Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Is it going to keel over right this second? Should we call it?” 

When he doesn’t hear Nebula respond, he turns around to face her, only to see her lost in thought. She catches his eye when she finally responds in a hoarse, metallic voice, “A week, at most. The fuel is going to give us the most problems no matter what we fix. We can only go so far.” 

“Yeah, something told me I would have been better off not knowing. Next time, remind me not to ask.” Tony murmurs, visibly displeased. His mind is already doing the calculations necessary to figure out if he can get Peter back to Earth while the ship is standing on its last legs. The odds are slim, and Tony would prefer not to think about the probability for the sake of his mental health. 

“Is he yours?” Nebula asks after a few minutes of silence, her voice a little softer this time, almost as if she were reluctant to ask. “Peter Parker.” 

“Yeah,” he answers automatically, before mulling over his own words and immediately backtracking, “well, not mine in _that_ type of sense. Not biological.” Fuck, what was he thinking? Saying that Peter _Parker_ is _his_ kid to some random alien he met? Even if Tony does feel a strong protective and parental affection for Peter, he doubts that Peter thinks of him in a parental light. Mentor, yes. Parental? Most likely not. He doesn’t have the right to dip a toe in those waters. 

Shockingly, Nebula doesn’t press the subject. “I understand.” 

They both tinker quietly for a few more hours, Tony taking longer to finish his work only because he insisted upon checking on Peter every now and then to make sure that he didn’t wake up alone. Nebula doesn’t question him this time around but does cast him a curious glance whenever he comes back to continue working. 

When they finish up as best they could, Tony gives Nebula a nod and wearily trudges back to Peter, who is still fast asleep. The ship is now ready to move for a few more distances, though Tony is unsure if it can make it the entire way to Earth because of the unstable mechanics. The risk is high and as Tony’s hand falls upon his Arc Reactor, he realizes that he has no tricks up his sleeve this time. No cheesy one-liners, no surprise life-saving plans, nothing. Zero, zilch, nada. _Nothing._

Everything depends on the state of the ship and how long Tony and Nebula can keep its heart pumping. They have a limited supply of food, water, and oxygen. Their lives depend on pure chance. 

Tony slides down against the wall next to Peter, making sure to be careful. He watches Nebula work the controls of the ship, moving swiftly yet elegantly, her figure dark against the twinkling of multicolored stars in the window in front of her. The soft hum of the spaceship helps calm his whirlwind of thoughts, reminding him of the constant humming of his original Arc Reactor in the cave in Afghanistan. Beside him, Peter makes a soft noise and rests his head on Tony’s shoulder, breathing evening out once more. 

Desperately, Tony quietly wishes for a sign that he can get Peter back to Earth safely no matter what it takes, help Nebula fix the ship for her return to space if she didn’t find Earth to her liking, and find a way to fix any of this, but the vast emptiness of space silently stares back at him, cold and cruel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this! as always, comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> and of course, if you wanna see more of this fic, then please let me know! i have a few other fics to work on but i can prioritize so if you want more updates here, just lemme know and i'll make sure to update this one first. or at least try to because i do what i want most of the time. but hey, at least it'll be in my thoughts when i open another word document and stare at it blankly for three hours.


	2. Space Travel for Dummies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and his crew gets used to space travel - and all of the inconveniences that come with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REALLY KIND FEEDBACK ON THE FIRST CHAPTER!! I DIDNT EXPECT IT AT ALL! seriously, it made my week so much better and i'm so glad that you're all interested in this story, it makes me so much more motivated to update. <3 
> 
> i added peter's pov in the beginning just 'cause. this fic will mainly be in tony's pov, but i'll make sure to sprinkle in chapters with peter and nebula's pov.   
> anyways, i'm a bit late with this chapter but that's because i had a terrible migraine on tuesday and wednesday. i don't have a clear updating schedule yet but i try to finish each chapter by every tuesday.

“So how does your body adjust to the gravity on different planets?” 

“Automatically.” 

“Really?” Peter gasps, folding his arms across his chest as he tries to think it through. _Geez, physics class is nothing compared to this. Really wish she taught us instead of the guy who told me that we have to teach half of the course to ourselves._ “Even on Earth? Gravity is a lot stronger on Earth, or at least when you have to enter its atmosphere. I mean, that’s what those science textbooks in class say. I’ve nearly experienced going out of the atmosphere by myself and it sucked – I passed out. Have you ever been to Earth?” 

“I have never been to Earth,” Nebula responds monotonously, and Peter begins to worry that she is getting annoyed. After all, they have been at this question-and-answer session ever since Peter woke up, which was about ten minutes ago. Peter has a knack of fitting an enormous amount of questions in just a few minutes, though, no matter how exhausted he feels. However, despite Peter’s worries, she continues speaking, “Our ships are more likely better equipped to handle gravity changes. We also travel through space more frequently, so we are well-adapted to changes in gravity.” 

“That’s so freakin’ awesome.” 

“Yes,” Nebula muses, “I suppose it is. What are your secrets? I’ve never seen someone stick upside down for so long – or at all, no matter what their enhancements are.” 

Peter offers her a lopsided grin as he uncrosses his arms and lets them hang freely beyond his head, his crossed legs on the lower ceiling of the ship keeping him from falling and breaking his neck. “I’m pretty bad at keeping secrets. I’m not sure if Mr. Stark told you that already. So, basically, I got bitten by a radioactive spider on Earth. And one day I woke up sticking to _everything,_ I couldn’t even get my pajama pants off so I had to put my jeans on top of them and go to school like that. Then when I had to hand in my homework, my hands got stuck to the papers and the teacher was coming around to collect them and I was _freaking out._ Then my hand got stuck to the toilet paper roll in the bathroom. I didn’t realize that I could walk on walls until I was walking down an empty hallway by myself and suddenly I was standing on top of the lockers at a ninety degree angle. To be honest, after everything that happened, that was the most uneventful thing.” 

His voice trails off as his thoughts travel back to Ned and his heart sinks as he thinks about what might have happened to him. The thought of his best friend slowly turning to dust, afraid, not knowing what’s going on, wondering if Peter is going to save him because he’s a _hero_ and that’s what heroes _should_ do. Peter wasn’t there. Spider-Man wasn’t there. What kind of a hero is he if he can’t be there for the people he loves? 

Nebula’s voice ushers him away from his thoughts. “I can tell that you’re not very experienced in combat. You’re young. Learning how to defend yourself is important. If you would like, I can teach you how to protect yourself.” 

An embarrassingly toothy, childish smile forms, making his cheeks begin to hurt. “That would be great, Ms. Nebula! I’d love that! Thank you, that’s so awesome.” 

“Nebula is my name. No need for the Ms.” 

Peter hasn’t been speaking to Nebula for long, but he already notices that she doesn’t seem like a person of many words – unlike Tony, who enjoys hearing the sound of his own voice so much that he can talk for hours about a subject if he wanted to. Peter is the same way, without the bolstering self-confidence and narcissism, as he mainly tends to ramble about whatever comes to mind. 

“Hanging upside down is _not_ doing wonders for your bedhead,” a voice behind him says and pokes him in the back, causing Peter’s lips to curl into a smile. Tony appears in his field of vision with an amused expression on his face, and Peter doesn’t miss the fondness of his smile or the way his dark brown eyes seem to shine despite the limited amount of light surrounding them, illuminating everything in a dim glow. There are a few grease stains on his tank top and cheek, which is nothing new to Peter since he’s watched him work in the lab long enough for the sight to become familiar. The mechanic arches an eyebrow as he looks Peter over, “I see you also took my jacket. Didn’t know Spider-Man went around stealing the jackets of billionaires now.” 

“In my defense, I woke up with it. At first I thought it was a trash bag that fell from somewhere but then I took a closer look at it and remembered you wearing something like this.” Peter teases, smirking to let Tony know that it was all in good fun. 

Tony rolls his eyes. “My sense of fashion is the best there is, thank you very much. That’s just jealousy talking, kid.” He then turns to Nebula, dramatically gesturing towards Peter, “See what I have to deal with? There is absolutely no respect for me on this ship.” 

“You love me.” Peter chirps, joking but silently hoping that the answer is yes. 

“He does.” Nebula answers instead much to Peter’s surprise, and when Tony shoots her an accusing and betrayed look, she returns the stare as she points out matter-o-factly, “you make it obvious.” 

Tony snorts but to Peter’s relief, he doesn’t deny it. “What are you, a junior psychologist? Where did you get your degree in reading people? I mean it as a compliment, by the way. A lot of humans are dense as bricks.” Then, he turns on his heel and announces, “I’ll be in charge of dinner. Or lunch. I actually have no idea what time it is. I’ll be in charge of food for today, let’s put it that way.” Peter watches him leave in the direction where the food is stashed, noticing the slight limp in Tony’s step, most likely a result of the wound on his side. Naturally, Tony makes no mention of it and seems to be very desperate to hide it. A classic heroic gesture that Peter himself is guilty of, too. 

Processing what Tony had said to them, Peter’s eyes widen as he jumps down to the floor, settling down nearby Nebula as he whispers, “Are there any escape pods on this ship? Or an emergency escape? Mr. Stark even looking at food let alone touching it is a recipe for disaster.” 

“No, I suppose it is too late to make one.” 

Her blunt response makes Peter burst out into laughter.

* * *

Tony doubts that Chef Gordon Ramsay himself would be able to fix the nightmare of meals they had to choke down on the ship. He drags a hand down his face as he peers down at the food that he brought out in front of him – most of it is packaged, and a lot of the packages include salads, strange-looking fruits, and unidentifiable pink meats. There are also various small bags of peanuts here and there, which makes Tony feel as if he’s suddenly traveling economy on a plane. 

The main issue, however, is not the food itself. If faced with inevitable starvation, Tony is positive that he would scarf it all down with no hesitation. It is the amount of food that poses a threat. Tony knows for a fact that he can go without food for at least two days, as he often did on Earth when he worked on personal projects in his workshop, but Peter has an increased metabolism due to his powers. He gets hungry quicker than most humans and needs more nutrition to function properly – skipping meals could easily make him sick and they had no resources to take care of him, other than basic first aid kit bandages. _Which, unless we’re faced with flying space squirrels, will be totally useless,_ Tony bitterly thinks, tapping his foot against the ship. 

He settles on unwrapping two of the salads – one for Peter and one for Nebula – and snatching a bag of peanuts for himself so neither of them would feel awkward being the only ones eating. When he makes his way back to them, they’re in the same place they were before, Peter rattling off about Earth while Nebula sits and listens, nodding every now and then. He hands each of them their food before settling down on the floor, breezily opening his pathetic little bag of peanuts. There isn’t much of them in there but Tony supposes that it is better than nothing – and he needs to get used to their lack of food, anyway. He doubts that there is a drive-thru in space. 

They sit in front of the window and silently eat. Tony tries to ignore the way his intestines seem to uncomfortably twist at the sight of the stars in front of him. He had seen the sight before, when he was flying a bomb to space, the last things he saw before he closed his eyes being the stars surrounding him, suffocating him. This time, there is no bomb nor exploding army blocking his field of vision, and the stars seem to burn less brightly than before. The universe feels emptier and lonelier, but the suffocating feeling remains. It always does. 

“How long until we get to Earth? Your new estimation.” Tony asks Nebula in an attempt to bring his thoughts elsewhere - the recipient of the question chews silently for a minute before murmuring something in the lines of “one week if we’re lucky.” _Lucky meaning as in nothing goes wrong with the fuel and after working on it for a few hours, there is an entire laundry list of things going wrong with the fuel. Where do I even start?_ Rather than saying his thoughts aloud, Tony simply shrugs, “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m feeling pretty lucky right now. I’m feeling so lucky that I would go buy a lottery ticket if I could.” 

“Mr. Stark, you’re a billionaire. What would you even do with another million?” Peter pipes up, his voice muffled through salad leaves. 

“Buy you a big book of manners, that’s what. Seriously, kid? Talking with food in your mouth is a grade school no-no.” 

Peter rolls his eyes as he swallows. “Geez, what else are you gonna do, yell at me for putting my elbows on the table? Anyway, if I had a million dollars, I would…” his voice trails off and Tony starts to worry, already predicting what he is going to say. He knows Peter like the back of his hand. “I would probably buy some stuff that Aunt May has always wanted. Since she’s had to take care of me by herself, she has been making some personal money sacrifices and I just want to make her happy.” As Peter’s voice cracks a little towards the end, Tony offers him an encouraging smile, which Peter returns, and silently decides to keep what he said in mind when they get back to Earth. He stops the nagging thought of “ _if_ we get back to Earth” from rearing its ugly head. 

“How about you, Nebula? What would you do with an extra million dollars?” Tony turns his attention to her and is genuinely surprised when she looks so shocked to be asked. Has no one ever asked for her opinion on anything? Or is she simply not that much of a conversationalist? 

“Your Earth currencies have no value outside of your planet,” she points out, “and since I am technically an alien on your planet, they have no value to me.” 

They finish eating in silence and clean up the trash, knowing that any stray piece of garbage lodging anywhere would spell trouble and doom the already barely breathing ship. Then they end up sitting down in the same spots as before, most likely because there is nothing else they can do for now as they drift towards Earth. 

“How long have we been out here?” Peter suddenly asks, breaking the silence. Tony realizes that he doesn’t have an answer for that question and has been wondering the same thing but thankfully Nebula answers for them. 

“Approximately twelve hours.” 

Tony resists the urge to loudly sigh in frustration. He is the type of person to constantly be on the move, his hands always working on something, his mind always racing, and this sudden change in pace is not appreciated. Now all he has left to do is sit and think about how much fuel they have left and how his friends are all possibly dusted by now, wondering where the hell Iron Man is. Not to mention the fact that Peter is most likely dealing with the same dilemma right now. 

Suddenly, before any of them have the chance to start small-talk again, the lights start flickering wildly. Tony looks up just in time to see the ship plunge into darkness, the whirring sound in the background fading to the point where it is barely noticeable. He is on his feet in record time. _Of course I can never catch a break. Not that I’m surprised this rust-bucket is falling apart,_ he mentally rants as he rushes to the front of the ship to check the controls. The engine is fine, and the fuel hasn’t run out yet, so the heart of the ship is still weakly beating and everything else seems to be in decent condition. 

The only thing that changed is the temperature reading, which is a few degrees less than it was when Tony first checked on it. Peter answers his unspoken question. 

“Uh, Mr. Stark? Is it just me or is it getting kinda cold in here?” Peter asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. Through the light streaming through the window and his Arc Reactor, Tony spots Peter behind him, his arms hugging himself tightly, his eyebrows furrowed as he attempts to make sense of the situation. It is that moment that Tony realizes what is going on. Shivers are going to soon start wracking Peter’s body. His lips might turn a sinister shade of blue. Peter has always been bad at handling cold weather on Earth, which is why Tony made sure to include a lot more heating upgrades in the new suit, and the falling temperature in the ship has the potential to be fatal. 

“Keep my jacket on,” Tony orders, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, “and tell Karen to switch your heater on. Do jumping jacks if you have to. Run a marathon around the ship. C’mon, we need to figure this out.” As much as he would prefer to keep Peter away from the unpredictable wiring, he knows that benching the kid would only make things worse and it’s better if he can keep an eye on him. Not to mention that Peter is extremely smart and is more than likely to figure something out if Tony or Nebula can’t, and Tony is unafraid of acknowledging this. 

“Nebula, are you doing alright over there?” Tony then calls to her, instinctively placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder to offer him a reassuring squeeze before beginning to make his way over to her, or where he assumed she is after she ran off to check the wires after the lights went out. In all honesty, he can’t see shit beyond the glow of his Arc Reactor now that they are further from the window. “If I accidentally step on your leg or arm or any body part, please don’t blast me into oblivion. I still want to make it home in one piece just in time for dinner. If you do have to blast me, then not the face – WHOA, SHIT!” 

His voice cuts off as soon as a rough hand pushes him backwards and it doesn’t take him longer than ten seconds to realize that the hand belongs to Nebula. He had been hit with enough robotic parts in his past to the point of memorizing the feeling. “Careful. You could have stepped on an unprotected conductor.” 

“As much as I enjoy being manhandled, maybe a warning next time would be great.” Tony groans before propping himself up on his elbows, staring up at Nebula’s grim face. His heart sinks. “You don’t look like you have good news.” 

“Mr. Stark? I’m not an electrical engineer or anything but I don’t think one of the wires should be sparking like this.” A voice ahead of Tony calls and Nebula offers Tony a hand, which he gratefully takes and hauls himself up. His stab wound protesting against the rough action makes him wince but thankfully it didn’t reopen yet. He finds Peter standing in front of the wires that Tony had inspected with Nebula while the teen was fast asleep, a concerned look on his face. Tony knows that he’s afraid but hiding it well – a habit that many superheroes end up developing. 

“The protection and insulation are broken,” Tony observes as he bends down, his mind already trying to come up with some solutions. “Not like they were in any good shape before. This just takes the cake. The wire checked out. The other wires around it are getting affected, too. Their protection doesn’t look any better. I’d go as far as saying that this is affecting the entire system, which means that the temperature control system is busted.” _Which is the opposite of what we need. If it were just one wire, it wouldn’t be a big deal but they’re all connected._

Nebula takes a look at it beside him, her face void of any emotion but Tony can tell by the way her jaw sets that she knows this doesn’t look good so far. Meanwhile, the temperature is gradually dropping as the heating systems are no longer working and Tony is beginning to _feel_ it. Since he sacrificed his jacket, he is wearing a tank top and he has a feeling that goosebumps will be starting to appear soon. If they don’t get this fixed fast, the remaining heat will fade away and they will all be exposed to the harsh and unforgiving temperatures of space. The mere thought of this makes Tony almost shudder. 

“Are you cold?” Tony suddenly asks Nebula, once again not missing how surprised she looks. “The kid’s using my jacket right now but I think you two can play hot potato with it. He has a built-in heater in his suit. The temperature is just really dropping in here. I think we’re going to be able to see our breaths soon.” 

“I’m alright,” she carefully responds. “Thank you.” A brief few seconds of silence pass between them as they all uselessly stare at the broken, sparking wire, the supposed cause of all their problems so far. This time, Nebula turns to Tony questioningly. “What are the chances of fixing this and living in the process?” 

Tony looks at Peter, then Nebula, and then the wire. He’s going to have to pull off something extraordinary. “Let’s just say that 1940s Capsicle is very close to having some company right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is just the little einsteins theme song but every time something goes wrong it gets faster


	3. Problem Solver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life-saving chemistry but in space. Peter is sure that none of his classmates can brag about doing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well...long time no see. i don't have much of an excuse for not updating in months so please take this chapter as an apology. i am trying to haul ass to get chapters done, though, so expect more coming soon!   
> anyways, we get points of view from all three of them! hell yeah!

Nebula feels like she finally understands what Gamora meant when she worried that she was going to die next to the biggest idiots in the galaxy. 

Not that she is handling this situation any better. In fact, she doesn’t know what to think of the two of them yet – her new crewmates. Tony Stark, the older one, has no filter when it comes to his words and a knack for building things. He is ridiculously reckless since he took on her “father” in battle even when thoroughly weakened but that recklessness also makes him incredibly courageous. Peter Parker, the younger one, has no filter either but rather than being prone to saying inappropriate comments, he simply prattles on and on about any given subject. He is highly curious and very openly caring, the latter being a trait that Nebula has never seen in anyone before. 

There is something satisfying in watching the way Tony interacts with Peter. They seem to have this very strong bond that feels completely natural, a bond that forged on its own over time. Their banter with each other is sharp and quick, as if they practiced those lines over and over again. When something happens, they often exchange glances, as if communicating telepathically but Nebula knows better than to believe that humans can perform such a difficult task. They are often in sync in conversation and when they’re not, they somehow find a way to make their rhythms match each other. 

Is that the way that normal fathers interact with their sons? Then again, Tony did deny being the kid’s father, or at least not his biological father. He seemed unusually awkward and nervous when she asked so she tried to soften the blow by claiming that she understood. The truth was, she didn’t understand what he meant at all. 

Perhaps fathers were supposed to act like that. They were never supposed to claim their sons but allow their sons to claim them. Or perhaps she was over-thinking this. Still, she knew very well that no matter what, Tony did love the child in a paternal fashion. Even when she pointed it out before their meal, he didn’t deny it like she thought he would. 

The most curious thing, however, is how they both seem to care about her. She had just met them, but they act like they’ve known her for years. She wonders sometimes if it is just a human thing – to be so friendly and kind even to strangers. She knows that it is most likely the situation they’re in and the understanding that they must stick together if they want to have a chance at survival. After all, what would be the point in making new enemies when Thanos has already won? 

Nonetheless, the concerned look in Tony’s eyes whenever he asks her if she’s alright haunts her. If they die by failing to fix the faulty wires in time and the ship ends up freezing over, she is certain that those eyes will be the last thing she sees before she drifts off.

* * *

The temperature inside the ship is dropping rapidly. 

Siberia was _nothing_ compared to this and Tony should know because he almost died of hypothermia there. In fact, he’d much rather prefer Siberia over their current circumstances. At least Siberia is on Earth and not in the middle of space. Maybe their next stop should be Venus instead of Earth just so they can warm up before their arrival. 

His Arc Reactor seems to ache in sympathy at the memories. He wills it not to. The last thing he needs to do right now is think about how his best friend betrayed him by keeping a large secret from him and then left him to die in the freezing cold with his Arc Reactor, cracked and broken, barely working, and preached about how they would lose _together_ when he is nowhere in sight now – 

“You’re starting to look like a Smurf.” Peter’s voice successfully interrupts him from his thoughts and Tony is taken aback. 

“A what?” 

Peter blinks. “You don’t know what a Smurf is? Nebula kind of looks like one. Anyways, I think I just found our next movie night for when we get back on Earth.” As he speaks, he starts to take off Tony’s jacket, but Tony is quick to realize what his motive is and stop him. 

“No, I know what a Smurf is, and I already called her Smurfette once. You just caught me off guard. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that you can’t thermoregulate. If there’s anyone here who is in danger of freezing first, it’s you.” Tony points out, using the back of his hand to brush some strands of his own hair away from his eyes. “And trust me, while I’m still alive and kicking, that is not going to happen. If you want to hand it over to someone else for a few minutes, you can ask Nebula if she needs it.” 

Peter cleverly changes the subject. “Mr. Stark, do you really think you can fix it just like that? What are you gonna do about the protection?” 

He resists the urge to tell Peter that he truthfully has no fucking idea and that their chances of survival are slipping away from them quicker than the remaining heat surrounding them. “We don’t have the rights materials for makeshift protection. I don’t even think we have the right materials to _make_ those materials. Also, I’m still waiting for the day you call me Tony.”

“Okay, Mr. Tony Stark.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Five.” 

“Five.” Tony repeats, deadpan. Regardless, he can’t help but smile and he knows that Peter has noticed it despite him turning away. He continues to work in silence, Peter still standing close to him. He doesn’t mind the company, especially since Peter is where he can keep a close eye on him. 

Suddenly, the teen breaks the silence. “Hey, what if I just web the wire up? That can be a substitute for the protection.” 

“I doubt it. Your webbing dissolves in a certain amount of time, doesn’t it?” Tony responds, hissing as he accidentally gets a slight shock. “We need something long-term.” 

“Yeah, but what if I make it so it doesn’t dissolve?” 

Tony pauses, thinking it through for a moment before he looks up at Peter curiously. It’s a reach but it might work under very certain circumstances. It’s not like they have many other options to consider. “How do you plan on making it?” he asks, rapidly tapping a tool against his thigh as his mind goes miles an hour. 

“I can use my current web fluid as a base and I’m sure that this ship has chemicals somewhere,” he explains, “and I have my web fluid formula memorized so all I need to do is tweak it a little. I don’t know what we’ll do to get the heating back. It’s only good for protection.” 

While Peter was busy speaking, Tony already thought of that. “I’ll reboot the heating systems. They’re most likely failing right now because of the wiring. If I can reboot them and they sense the fixed wire, we should be fine. I don’t know anything about alien technology but how hard can it be?” 

He ends his little lecture and turns to see Peter looking at him expectantly, arms folded across his chest. The sleeves of Tony’s jacket nearly cover his hands, which is an endearing sight. Peter doesn’t say anything be Tony already knows what he’s asking of him. 

“Alright. Yeah, go ahead, buddy. Tell me when you’re done.” Before Peter can rush off to work, he grabs the teen’s shoulder to get his attention before putting both of his hands on his shoulders. “Tell me if you’re getting too cold, okay? I know you’re allergic to telling people what’s wrong but it’s important.” 

Peter smiles reassuringly, placing his hand on Tony’s and squeezing. “I will, I promise.” Then his smile turns into a smirk. “I just noticed how close I am to being taller than you.” 

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Watch it, kid.” 

As much as he wants to keep Peter beside him to make sure he’s alright, he knows that letting him do something to help will be a good way to keep Peter moving and therefore keep heat circulating through his body. Not to mention the fact that that Peter knows what to do as well. Even though Tony knows the components of his web fluid since he made his new suit, he feels comfortable putting the responsibility in Peter’s hands. 

As Peter leaves, Tony can’t help but allow a pain-staking thought to surface. _I hope we’re around to see another movie night, buddy._

* * *

Nebula can tell that both Tony and Peter are not handling the cold temperatures so well. Tony abandons his work and checks on Peter every now and then, a worried look clear as day on his face. 

Once again, Tony strangely checks on her, too. She notices that his movements are getting sluggish and it appears to be a common human reaction to the cold. “I am alright,” she assures him before asking, “are you?” 

“My ass is freezing off and I’m trying to go to my happy place, which is a nice, warm, sandy beach on Earth. I say once we land there, we all take a nice, long vacation. Other than that, yeah, I’m peachy.” Tony snorts. Then another look crosses his face and suddenly his earlier humor is gone. He glances behind him for a second, where Peter is working, and then stares at Nebula. “Hey, blueberry, can I ask you a favor?” 

“I’m working on keeping whatever remaining heat we have circulating.” Nebula points out, ignoring the strange nickname he has given her. However, she is curious to hear what he is going to ask of her. 

“Yeah, I understand that. It’s just that I’m,” he lowers his voice, “I’m worried about the kid. Can you maybe keep an eye on him? He promised me that he’d tell me if something is wrong, but I think he’s going to wait until the last minute. Listen, I don’t want to sound like some helicopter parent – mentor. I meant mentor. You know what I mean. Just, please? Let me know if he looks like he’s about to pass out or something.” 

_Why is he so afraid of calling himself a parent?_ Nebula wonders, staring at the man. He looks worried but the fight to keep his life and the lives of everyone else on the ship seems to burn in his eyes. Nebula gets an odd warm feeling. She isn’t certain if she likes it or not. “You can’t do this yourself?” she asks, not to sound insensitive but simply because she wants to know what is keeping him from it. 

“Even with the kid’s webs, there’s a lot more work to be done with the wires before we can just stick brandades on them and call it a day. I’m trying to reboot the entire heating system.” 

Of course. The gifted engineer takes on the most difficult task with alien technology that he might not even understand until he’s long dead. He is diligent, she has to admit. That diligence might be what will keep them alive despite the circumstances. “Okay. I will keep an eye on the kid.” 

Tony looks relieved. “Thank you.” 

He leaves and she watches as he brushes by Peter, putting his hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezing before making his way back to the wires. 

_Yes,_ she confirms as she shifts her attention back to her work, which involves trying to keep the temperature from dipping down harshly enough to instantly kill them, _he is definitely an idiot._

* * *

Space isn’t anything like Peter’s chemistry class. For some reason there he can make web fluid and stash it in his desk as if it were child’s play and no one would notice. In space? Forget about it. This is tougher than rocket science and Peter should know how tough it is because he enjoys all kinds of engineering. 

The bottom line is that he tried. A lot. 

The various attempts all seem to blur into one and so far not one combination has been the right one. Peter is beginning to feel his fingers grow numb. His breaths are coming out in short puffs. The way his body quakes to produce heat makes it difficult for him to be precise in his measurements. 

Frustration bubbles in his chest, warming up his body by only a degree or two as the web fluid dissolves _quicker_ rather than slower. He got it wrong _again._ What is wrong with him? He looks up at Tony, who is busy trying to keep the rest of the wires intact as well as working with the complicated systems in the far corner of the ship, shivers wracking his body frequently. His lips even look like they’re turning a dull shade of blue. The sight makes Peter feel like an icicle was jabbed right through his chest, freezing his blood and his heart in the process. He’s going to let Tony down in the worst way possible. 

“Why did you stop?” a voice asks and Peter turns just in time to see Nebula standing a few feet away from him, her dark eyes searching. 

“I-I don’t think I can do this,” he quietly admits, taking a few steps back, trying to ignore the way his own body shakes. “Nothing is working out…I, I really don’t know how to fix this. It’s not working. I, uh, I really can’t do it.” He bows his head, feeling ashamed, terrified, and quite frankly ready to throw something in frustration. He briefly considers it but instead resorts to balling his hand into a fist, his arm stiff against his side. 

“If Tony didn’t think you could do it, I don’t think he would have left you in charge of this.” Nebula says after a while, and Peter looks up at her. She has a blank expression but it’s clear that she is doing her best to appear comforting. “I don’t understand him. Sometimes I think that he’s an idiot. But I do know that he has a lot of faith in you, despite the fact that you’re a child. He doesn’t strike me as a man who would put his life into the hands of someone he doesn’t thoroughly believe in.” 

Nebula then shrugs her shoulders. “Like I said, sometimes I think that he’s an idiot. Just know that our chances of survival were already slim before the wires failed.” It becomes clear to Peter that she is trying to tell him that she believes in him but at the same time is trying not to put too much pressure on him in case he really can’t do it. Before he can say anything to her, she walks away, most likely to continue her work. 

She’s strange. Peter can’t figure her out. There’s no doubt that she isn’t heartless, though. In fact, he feels like he already warmed up to her hours ago. 

_Focus, Peter. You got this. Don’t panic._ He takes a deep breath as he turns his attention back to the web fluid, trying to ignore the way the air chills his body, and allows calculation to take over. His fingers hurt, burning, but he wills himself to power through it. 

The first try is another bust but he’s getting closer. He performs the same steps, only vaguely aware of how it is beginning to hurt to take deep breaths, this time changing one component of the formula. 

“I think I got the heating systems ready to reboot.” Tony’s voice calls from all the way on the side of the building, and Peter doesn’t miss the way it shakes. He sounds triumphant but the cold is taking a toll on them all. 

“You think?” Nebula murmurs skeptically. 

“I’m wondering, did the people who designed this spaceship ever consider that this might happen? Or did they just decide that they want a literal interpretation of Vanilla Ice’s hit song? You’d think that there would be more geniuses out here in space but now I’m starting to think that I’m the only one.” Tony’s voice seems to be punctuated with bleeding narcissism, but Peter understands that he’s nervous and is just trying to hide it with overwhelming self-confidence. They’ve spent a lot of time with each other on Earth, enough time to figure out each other’s quirks. 

Although he can hear both of their voices clearly, Peter notices how…far-away they sound, almost if they are in entirely different places and not on one single spaceship. _Probably not a good sign. This one better work otherwise I’m screwed._

Finally, his next trial of web fluid passes the five-minute test. He only gave each web fluid combination a maximum of five minutes, all of them dissolving in under that. Five minutes doesn’t mean much since his usual web fluid can stay for a few hours on Earth before dissolving. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time for hour trials before all three of them are popsicles. 

Peter is confident that it’ll last them a little longer than usual, though, if it’s not the perfect combination. 

In other words, there’s a whole lot of sticky stuff in there. Peter starts to worry that it might be sticky enough to stick to his web shooter and jam it but he doesn’t have any other choice than to go with it. He gently takes the container with the web fluid into his hands and fills up his web shooters, which are empty since he used the original fluid as a base. 

One step is all it takes for his body to begin regretting everything it has been put through up to this moment. 

_Dizzy,_ his mind helpfully supplies as he closes his eyes against the vertigo before reopening them. _Very dizzy. The floor is very close to my face. Wait. That’s because the floor_ is _in your face, dumbass._

“’M’fine. Jus’ tripped.” Peter mumbles to no one in particular, his tongue feeling like cotton in his mouth. His voice sounds faraway, as if it isn’t his own. _C’mon, Spider-Man, get up._

He doesn’t remember standing up but somehow he finds himself on his feet again. For some reason, Nebula is by his side. Stumbling towards the wiring, he manages to make it there without falling again. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that his body is _not_ handling the dropping temperature like a champ. Stupid spider bite and lack of thermoregulation. Why couldn’t he have been bitten by a radioactive polar bear instead? 

Tony’s concerned voice barely reaches his ears. He kneels down, clumsily loading up his web shooters before aiming at the broken wire, praying that it’ll work. It takes a few tries and Peter blames the numbness of his fingers but soon, the web fluid shoots out onto the wire, sticking to it immediately. He doesn’t dare touch it just in case his hand gets stuck there, too. 

Nebula says something to Tony, who nods and moves off to the far-left side, almost hesitantly. A switch is pulled, a couple of buttons are pushed, and the sound of metal clanging vibrates through the entire ship. He eyes the web fluid latched onto the broken wire carefully, heart pounding as time goes on – _come on, please stay, please don’t dissolve._ It doesn’t. He isn’t certain how much time has passed but the web fluid remains exactly where he put it, with no signs of deterioration. 

Above him, the sound of whirring as the heating systems come back to life fills his ears. It sounds deafening and the sound seems to make it all the way into his body, making his heart thump quicker against his chest. He senses Tony come back and hears Nebula murmur something – she sounds congratulatory and thoroughly surprised. 

“Mr. Stark? I, uh… I think the cold is a little too much for me…now.” 

“Oh, _now_ you decide to tell me? Pete, are you listening to me? _Hey._ ” 

For a split second, his tone of voice puts him in a different place. 

_He remembers inviting Tony over to spend the holidays with him and Aunt May. He didn’t expect Tony to agree since he expected the man to already have extravagant plans – after all, this was Tony Stark they were talking about. He lived for big parties with a ton of people he didn’t know._

_Shockingly, Tony accepted the invitation with a warm smile. He showed up just in time for them to string lights everywhere. While Aunt May decorated the small tree nestled in the corner of their apartment, Peter busied himself with the colorful lights, sitting on top of the ceiling as he latched them on with one of his web shooters._

_He looked to the side, seeing Tony in an ugly sweater with his back turned to him, holding a few ornaments in his hands. Grinning mischievously, he pointed a web shooter square on his back and lets it fire. Tony screeched in surprise and nearly dropped the ornaments. He shot Peter a fiery look._

“Hey. _That wasn’t very nice of you, kid…”_

“Kid?” 

Nebula is the one to help him to his feet and when Peter takes one look at Tony’s face, blanched with fear, lips slightly parted as if a word is caught in his throat, guilt drops in his stomach like a stone. Aw, man. He didn’t want to worry Tony this much at all. 

Murmuring a soft “thank you” to Nebula, he leans against Tony’s chest, careful not to put too much pressure on his Arc Reactor, closing his eyes. Warmth slowly floods back into his body and he is barely aware of Tony’s arms around him. His arms are shaking and Peter can’t tell if it’s from how cold it is or because of the fright he heard in the man’s voice. 

“’M alright,” he assures him as best he could despite his tongue still feeling like it belonged to someone else. 

“Yeah. You’re alright.” Tony softly repeats, and Peter feels him drop his face into his hair, as if trying to comfort himself. Not that he minds it at all. He knows that they both need it. He feels Tony shift and slowly looks up to see him nodding at Nebula. “Hey, Nebula. Thank you.” 

Peter is glad that Tony didn’t let go of him yet. He feels as if he’s starting to sway on his feet and the mechanic is like an anchor, the only person keeping him from faceplanting on the ground. Imagine how embarrassing that would be. 

“Oh. Of course. I’d prefer us all not to die, at least not so soon.” Nebula manages to say, her voice miles away, looking vaguely embarrassed before she turns away from them. “I’m going to check our course to make sure that the energy you used to reboot the systems didn’t alter it.” 

That’s the last thing Peter remembers before his body slumps against Tony and a warm darkness envelops him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think! comments & kudos keep my bitter soul going. 
> 
> my tumblr: starkintrn.tumblr.com


	4. Stardust and Spidey Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days pass - or at least what they suspect are days. Life on a tin-can in the middle of the universe is difficult to settle in to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no update. that's my bad, school started again and i'm overwhelmed with homework. updating is gonna be a little sporadic but i'm getting chapters done, so hopefully you all won't have to wait a month for the next one.   
> this chapter is mainly in peter's pov.

Tony is sick of seeing the stars. 

He’s had to deal with them for the past few days – damn, has it even been days? Does anyone know what day it is? – and they’ve offered him nothing but a vague sense of anxiety, a rock that settles in his stomach and stays there. He makes sure to only catch a small glimpse of them every time he passes by the window otherwise his mouth will go dry, his breathing will quicken, and his head will begin to pound. 

So why is he standing in front of the window as if his feet were planted there, staring at the stars ahead of him? Truthfully, he doesn’t know. They caught his eye and are refusing to let him go; he feels like a fly caught in a web but rather than struggling for his life, he silently accepts his fate. 

“Why do you avoid looking at them?” 

Tony turns to see Nebula standing a good distance behind him, almost as if she is afraid to get any closer. He doesn’t ask her to move up and instead turns his attention back to the window, the familiar presence of fear returning to him. Part of him doesn’t want to answer the question, deeming it too personal and quite frankly, none of her business. However, the other part of him desperately wants someone to know, as if he’d combust if he kept it inside any longer. 

“Imagine that this is the last thing you see before you die,” says Tony after a brief moment of silence, his eyes fixed upon the window that provided them with a large glimpse of the outside universe. The stars twinkle in the distance, the vast emptiness seeming to stretch out for billions of years. He wants to look away but for some reason, he can’t. 

“Star-gazing is a popular activity on Earth, you know that? Of course, I never liked it much after…” his voice trails off, but he quickly recovers, “I just hated it. It’s a shame I do. The kid has offered to do it with me, it kills me to say no.” 

“Does he know why?” Nebula asks, her voice hesitant but imploring nonetheless. Tony is surprised yet relieved nonetheless that she doesn’t ask him about the details pertaining to what happened. 

“Well, I never outright told him. What is he, my therapist? Anyway, I think he already knows. Not from my word of mouth, of course, but he’s an Avengers fanatic. He knows everything about us.” 

“I think you should tell him.” Tony turns around again to see Nebula looking equally surprised at the words that came out of her mouth. She looks at him and then uncharacteristically turns away, her eyes focused on a spot on the floor instead as if it were the most interesting thing in the entire universe. “I just speculate that they appreciate honesty. Human children. Even if they already know.” 

He pauses as her words settle in the atmosphere around them. Then he smiles, “I think you know more about humans than you give yourself credit for.” 

Nebula bristles at the insinuation at first but Tony can see a glint of pride in her eyes as she straightens up, as if preening. “I know only what I suspect. Most of what you humans do is useless anyway.” 

“Oh, just wait until you hear what else we useless humans can do,” laughs Tony as he finally steps away from the window, slowly making his way over to her. “You’d run for the hills. Every day I’m surprised when aliens invade Earth, most of us are just a bunch of dumbasses – as if we’re worth the resources of invading. Of course, me excluded. Peter’s excluded, too.” 

As he’s about to pass her, he reaches up almost tentatively before placing a hand on her shoulder, praying that she takes it as a silent “thank you” rather than an invitation to fight. The last thing he needs is a good punch to the face. 

She flinches and automatically raises her hand in a fist but then freezes in a moment’s glance. She looks at Tony oddly before her fist gradually lowers against her side and her shoulders, once tense, relax a bit. Her face remains expressionless, her eyes focusing curiously on him as if she is seeing him for the first time in her life. 

Tony smiles before he lifts his hand up from her shoulder and walks away, leaving the stars behind him.

* * *

“Kid, I’ll show you how it’s done. You’re making it too easy for her to win. Up you go, you go be the referee.” 

Peter rolls his eyes as he reluctantly obeys and drifts away from the table, standing a small distance away from Tony as he takes Peter’s seat. Leaning against the table, he resolves himself to becoming the referee for the longest game of paper football about to be played. He isn’t certain how long he’s been at this game with Nebula, but the way his butt aches tells him that it hasn’t been a particularly short time. 

Given Tony’s highly competitive nature, this game will take years. At least it will alleviate the boredom each of them has been battling. 

“My bets are on Nebula winning,” comments Peter with a mischievous grin, laughing as Tony shoots him a glare. 

Nebula, on the other hand, seems to have appreciated this comment. “I think I am getting used to this _game._ ” 

“Peter loses all the time in Monopoly,” shrugs Tony, skillfully ignoring Peter’s protests. He then cocks his head, a confident and familiar smile forming on his face; Peter is relieved to see him smile like that again despite the circumstances. “Ready to face a real master, Bluebell? Go on, take your first shot.” 

As the game begins, Peter watches intently as Nebula flicks the small paper football in Tony’s direction. He proceeds to howl with laughter as she successfully scores her first point, much to the jaw-dropping surprise of Tony.

* * *

“Can’t we just speed this thing up a little?” 

“No, and if you don’t quit whining, I’m turning this spaceship around.” 

“Turn it around, Mr. Stark. I’m sure you’d love to spend more time in here.” 

“Isn’t it time you go back to sleep?” 

“Isn’t it time you invested in a rocking chair?” 

A long pause passes between them as Peter waits for the inevitable sentence. “You’re grounded.” 

“You can’t ground me in space!” Peter exclaims, almost dropping his fork into his salad – or whatever the green stuff happened to be. At this point in the journey, he determined it would be better not to ask anymore. “The rules are different around here.” 

“How so, Mr. Parker? I didn’t know you had a PhD in astrophysics.” Tony tentatively sniffs a piece of a red vegetable(?) that is impaled on his fork and makes a face. “I can’t tell if this is a tomato or an oddly colored mutated pumpkin. Bet you five dollars that it’s a pumpkin.” 

As Tony gingerly takes a bite, Peter looks down on his own small black tray of food. This happens to be their breakfast. There is no use hiding it, it is absolutely pathetic. However, since they have nothing else to eat except tiny packs of peanuts, they have no choice but to experiment with the packaged food they have. Peter has already had his fair share of experiences eating some of the strange foods the ship offered. 

Beside him, Tony starts making a gagging noise, which only confirms Peter’s earlier thoughts: yeah, the food here is terrible and makes high school lunches look like the meals of Asgardian royalty. 

The food isn’t the worst part, admittedly. The worst part is that Peter has no idea how much time has passed since they left Titan, or when they are getting to Earth. It feels like they have been on the space voyage for two weeks already and unfortunately, he has no way of confirming or denying that idea. Lucky for them, the spaceship is equipped with every single piece of technology possible except clocks and Peter’s internal clock is fucked, for a lack of a better word. 

Peter continues to stare at his food, his fork now sitting uselessly on top of the salad. He wonders where Thanos is right now. Surely now that his goal is accomplished, he isn’t terrorizing any more people. For a brief second, Peter remembers the other Avengers left on Earth and finds himself hoping that they are currently thinking of ways of reversing what happened. Then again, that is only if they hadn’t disappeared, too…

Suddenly, a hand is being waved in front of his face and Peter blinks rapidly, leaning away from it as he listens to Tony drone in a fake robotic voice. “Benatar to Major Parker. Benatar to Major Parker, what’s your status?” 

_Crisis. A crisis is my status,_ he wants to say but instead just looks up at Tony, offering him a rather pathetic smile. 

Tony, naturally, seems to have decided to take his lack of a proper response as a bad sign. He feels Tony’s hand ghost over his back, landing on his shoulder as he gently pulls Peter closer to his side, giving him ample time to move away if he wants to. Peter doesn’t. Instead, he leans into him, resting his head on his shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” Peter responds to Tony’s silent question, shaking his head. “Just thinking about Earth. The people who are still on there and who aren’t. They’re all probably trying to fix things but I’m just here, floating in some spaceship in the middle of the universe.” 

“Hey, at least you’ll have something to brag about. Tell you what, when we get there, I’ll get you a new T-shirt to match your ‘I survived’ fashion collection you already have going on.” 

“And if I don’t survive?” 

The question is out of Peter’s mouth before he could stop it. As Tony’s expression significantly darkens, he opens his mouth again to quickly apologize for bringing it up, or perhaps to change the subject to something else, but Tony beats him to it. 

“You _will_ survive,” he says firmly, as if he were explaining simple factual concepts to Peter such as grass being green and the Earth rotating. “Don’t doubt it, kid. Not even for a second.”

* * *

To no one’s surprise, the salads and peanuts are barely doing anything to keep them safe from the clutches of hunger as the days – well, more like hours – continue to pass by. Regardless of whether they eat every last bit of green on the plate, they’re all gradually getting thinner. 

It seems as if every possible aspect of the space voyage is negatively affecting them. 

Of course, it is difficult to notice when they are all cramped together like sardines in a grocery store. However, Peter notices. He notices how Tony gets tired quicker, how he sometimes rubs the area around his Arc Reactor with his knuckles as if it aches, how his usually well-groomed beard gets more and more out of shape. He notices how Nebula casts longing looks at the food packets but never takes extras, how she is constantly checking the systems of the ship as if paranoid that it’s going to break down at any minute, how she barely rests. 

He desperately hopes that neither of them are able to notice what is going on with him. 

When, in the privacy of the far corner of the ship, Peter takes off Tony’s jacket and slips out of his suit for a second to make sure that his healing factor is working properly, he is met with dirty, blood-caked skin from scratches and scathes. Thankfully, the cuts are no longer there, none of them having been terrible enough to scar. 

His only scar, a long and deep scar on his side graciously given to him by the wings of the Vulture a few years ago, remains closed to his relief. Every time he finds himself in a battle, he is at risk of re-opening it again, which will lead to a tank of blood being lost. Tony has updated the software of his first suit to make sure to alert them of anything happening to the scar and to their relief, they had no reason to use said update yet. 

He impulsively traces his finger across it, shuddering as his finger bumps up and down on a few of his ribs. He is certain that on Earth they didn’t protrude like that unless he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, the latter of which being normal for his body type. 

His suit hanging down around his waist, Peter sighs and plops down on a radiator, the faint heat emanating from it not giving him much of a concern in terms of whether or not his suit is fireproof. Considering how much work Tony put into it, he doubts that anything can beat the suit Tony gave him in Germany, even if it isn’t nanotechnology. His nanotech suit is in Tony’s hands; Peter insisted on not wearing it until they got to Earth. It reminded him too much of how he was terrified that he was going to crumble to dust on Titan. 

His scar seems to prickle with unease as his hand remains on top of it, his thoughts wandering away from him. He feels small. For once, he truly feels his age. He’s just a high school teenager in space struggling to ignore the constant presence of hunger in his stomach and keep himself from dying of boredom first. What are the chances of his survival? 

What are they going to do once they land? What are they going to do if they never land? Who will Peter have to say goodbye to first as starvation gets the better of him? He can’t force himself to imagine the look on Tony’s face. And what about Aunt May? What will Tony have to tell her? How will Tony tell her? Will Tony even manage to tell her if he never gets back on Earth? 

_Tony is right,_ he thinks as he pulls his suit up over his body again and forcefully shoves down his rising panic, fulfilled with a new sense of duty, _I really don’t have any other choice but to survive._

He reaches for Tony’s jacket, fully prepared to pull it on only to hesitate, his eyes resting on the dark fabric. Tony has yet to ask for it back but oddly enough, Peter doesn’t want to give it back. Not until he is certain that Tony is going to step out of this spaceship alive and well.

* * *

“I’m starting to think that we should have a team name.” 

“What would be the purpose?” Nebula wonders aloud, no doubt thinking about the dusted Guardians judging by the tone of her voice. She doesn’t sound impressed. 

Peter looks offended. “’Cause it’d be cool! We’re a team, right? So we need a cool name. It’s just how things work around here.” 

“Avengers is already trade-marked,” says Tony from his place on the floor, cross-legged as he tinkers with his suit’s helmet. Peter doesn’t know if he’s actively trying to upgrade it or if he’s tinkering for the sole purpose of keeping his hands and mind busy. 

“Haha, Mr. Stark. I actually have different names in mind. How about ‘Super Space Squad’?” Peter suggests, hearing Tony snort. “What? I think it’s pretty cool.” 

“It is a good name,” interrupts Nebula, tossing a glance at Tony, who looks nothing less than betrayed. 

“Oh, so you’re on his side now? Is that what’s going on here? This is mutiny. I’ll make sure to never forget this moment when you need my help. Keep at it and your laundry list of betrayals will rival the kid’s.” 

“You speak as if you are not also always on his side.” 

Tony smirks but for once doesn’t retaliate.

* * *

“How is our food supply going?” Tony asks in passing as he spots Nebula checking it over. “Good news, I hope? We better be getting rewarded for this shit.” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“They will last us a little less than a week. We should only be one day short of food by the time we enter Earth’s gravitational pull if nothing happens to the fuel by then.” 

Tony frowns. One day without food doesn’t sound detrimental but that raises two problems, one of them being Peter’s ultra-fast metabolism. Of course, if he skips a day and leaves one meal for Peter once the food runs out, then the problem is solved. All the fuel has to do is work properly. 

Despite his assurances, he feels as if he is confidently betting their lives on a broken engine.

* * *

“We should be nearing your planet in six more days.” 

A tired, half-hearted, yet genuine cheer rose up from Tony and Peter as Nebula reported their status for the billionth time on this trip. Despite the current state of the ship, everything has been performing quite smoothly ever since Peter webbed up the wires. That is a relief for all of them since food and water are rapidly running out and they barely have enough for six days. If they had to stay in space any longer, they would certainly not be in for a good time. 

“If the fuel lasts to its full potential,” reminded Nebula, apparently unfazed by their cheers. 

“For the sake of my sanity, I am going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” Tony commented, peering at Nebula from his position on the chair, his legs kicked up and his hand pressed against his forehead as he attempted to nurse a headache. 

“We must be aware of the circumstances. Even if they are not so pleasant.” 

“Do you guys wanna play ‘I Spy’ again?” Peter pipes up, successfully interrupting their conversation. They’ve had this conversation a hundred times already, he knows damn well that if there was anything new to it, they would have said it already. 

Tony loudly groans, hiding his eyes under his hand again. “My eyes are done spying. If I have to hear you gloat about winning again just because you found some specific dust speck in the corner that I didn’t notice, I think I’m going to lose it.” 

“Your father has a point,” Nebula admits. She settles down on the chair next to him, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Thank you!” Tony exclaims as he dramatically throws his hands up in the air. “Finally, someone on this ship is on my side. It’s about damn time, I’m telling you.” 

Peter lazily leans his head back against the wall of the ship, his eyelids slowly closing, only vaguely listening to the two of them as they continue talking. Six days. In just six days, they will be back on Earth. A ruined, torn-up and lost Earth, but Earth nonetheless. The first thing Peter is going to do when he steps foot on the ground is kiss it. 

Then, just as his breathing slows and his eyes are about to close fully, it happens. 

It jolts him wide awake like lightning. In a matter of minutes, Peter is on his feet, his heart pounding against his chest so hard that he hears it. His spider senses are going off, usually a clear indicator of something bad happening or about to happen. 

Confused, he turns his attention to Tony and Nebula, wondering if they are getting any warnings about the ship’s condition. To his surprise, however, they didn’t seem to have noticed anything, not even how rapidly he had stood up. 

_Something is wrong._

What, though? What could be wrong if they aren’t receiving any warnings? Surely his spider senses are reacting to the status of the ship. They are the only beings on the ship. 

Suddenly alert, Peter straightens up against the wall, not moving too much to avoid drawing attention to himself. He stares out at the window, dutifully ignoring the dark and animated silhouettes of Tony and Nebula in front of him. He can see nothing but the stars, twinkling against the blanket of darkness enclosed around them. 

_Something is wrong._

Peter grits his teeth in frustration. His enhanced senses have a tendency of being useless, even on Earth, but he is usually able to figure out what was going on. Maybe his hunger is messing with it? No, that can’t happen unless he’s on the brink of death. The meals aren’t full course, but he knows that at the current moment he is far from starvation. On the other hand, his anxiety is another known culprit for interfering with his senses sometimes. 

“Hey, Nebula.” He decides to test the waters, just to make sure that they haven’t missed anything. Perhaps the audio alert systems went down or the ship hasn’t detected an issue yet because it’s underlying. 

When she finally turns to him with a questioning expression, he realizes with a sinking feeling that he has absolutely no idea what to ask her without raising suspicion. Fumbling over his words, a blush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks and ears, he says, “Uh. Huh...um. Oh! I forgot what you said before about our status. How many days until reentry?” 

He offers her a nervous toothy grin as Nebula stares at him for a few moments, definitely considering whether or not he is more stupid than she originally thought, before turning to the dashboard and controls. 

“It is still six days.” 

Perplexed, Peter simply nods in affirmation, his lips pressing into a thin line. Nebula fades back into her earlier conversation with Tony, and this time Peter isn’t listening at all. He stares ahead at the window, narrowing his eyes. No odd movements catch his eye. In fact, the universe outside of them looks like a snapshot. It looks completely, utterly normal. 

However, the words continue repeating in his head like a broken record. 

_Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is wrong._

_Shut up,_ Peter silently scolds, trying his best to block it out. Naturally, he is unsuccessful. 

_Something is wrong!_

_All this time in space must be really getting to me,_ he thinks sullenly as he watches Tony’s hand absentmindedly rest on his side. 

_SOMETHING IS WRONG._

Vexed, confused, and nervous, Peter reluctantly makes the decision to investigate by himself. He knows that logically he should tell Tony, yet he doesn’t want Tony to worry if it turns out to be caused by nothing but his anxiety. Tony would never let him out of his sight if that were the case. 

With every step that he takes, however, he notices with interest that his senses become duller and duller. Suddenly, it becomes easier for him to hear himself think. 

By the time he is at the far back wall of the ship, the feeling leaves him as quickly as it had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think! comments & kudos are always appreciated. 
> 
> my tumblr: [starkintrn](https://starkintrn.tumblr.com/)


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